


Episode 14: The Guidebook

by dressupgeekout



Series: Vignettes from Azuaveria [14]
Category: Furry (Fandom), Original Work
Genre: Masturbation, Mild Language, Multi, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, References to Drugs, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24574003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dressupgeekout/pseuds/dressupgeekout
Summary: Bisky reads some Antler Command Online fan fiction.
Series: Vignettes from Azuaveria [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1776130





	Episode 14: The Guidebook

**Author's Note:**

>   * [Download the official PDF](https://dressupgeekout.s3-us-west-2.amazonaws.com/vignettesfromazuaveria/20200603.pdf)
> 

    
    
    Ever since the fateful skirmish with The Shadow in the
    asteroid belt of the Argatellian System, Skipper Comet was
    impressed with Mercenary Coral's raw, brutish strength. He
    regretted ever not taking her seriously.  Cervinian
    casualties were numerous in that battle, but Comet saw
    Coral's unyielding and ruthless fighting firsthoof. And he
    did not forget. She was beautiful, graceful, and lethal.
    
    By the same token, it was the first time Coral saw Comet
    in such a situation, too. She regretted ever not taking
    him seriously. Turned out he could shine in the heat of
    battle, beyond merely showing off his impossibly perfect
    smile. He was the very definition of a dashing rogue:
    hoofsome, graceful, and lethal.
    
    Thoroughly floored by each other's performance, romantic
    tensions had been rising in the days immediately after the
    Argatellian engagement. The feeling was mutual.  Drinks in
    the mess hall led to chatting, which led to flirting,
    which led to Comet and Coral together on Coral's bed. She
    liked being close to him. The feeling of security was warm
    and fuzzy, like Sol 26-B shining on the late Sutton's
    antlers.
    
    Coral felt all over Comet's torso. He closed his eyes and
    sighed deeply, to Coral's delight and amusement.  His
    well-defined pectorals were equally a feast for the eyes
    and a pleasure to the touch. Clearly he had been working
    out. He flashed that gallant smile of his. It twinkled
    like a distant star. Coral could not help but giggle
    coquettishly.
    
    
    Suddenly, the Cervinia III's siren rang! A surprise attack
    from The Shadow!
    
    "Quick! Suck my dick before we go out and show that Shadow
    scum who's boss!" Comet said desperately.
    
    "Okay, plasma cannon quick~" Coral obliged. He ripped his
    pants open, no time to zip down the fly like a
    gentlebeast. A button flew across the room. She drew back
    a lock of hair and went down

— _Are you KIDDING me?!_ Bisky thought. She looked around the apartment to confirm her abnormally loud thought didn’t wake any of the neighbors. She shook her head and hit the BACK button on the web browser, then clicked on another title. The glow from her laptop, the only light in Bisky’s apartment, was beginning to burn her eyes, even without the additional sting of mediocre writing.
    
    
        Cervinia III.  The third of the four spaceships of the
    Last Deer Battalion (LDB).   Having lost contact with the
    last of the LDB, it floated in the galaxy almost rather
    entirely alone.   Captain Sutton was the captain of
    Cervinia III.   He was tired in the sleeping quarters and
    did not wear his blue captain's uniform with that stripe
    down the middle.   You know the one.  Instead, he was
    wearing almost nothing.  Because he was in the sleeping
    quarters.   After waiting, Coral entered.   "I am here,
    Captain," she told the Captain.  "Yes", Captain Sutton
    told Coral.  "Close the door."   She complied
    wholeheartedly, like the subservient doe she was.  Captain
    Sutton saw focused on her pretty eyes, those orbs of
    cerulean which he focused on nonstop.

_Wow, okay, that’s just bad,_ Bisky thought. _Why is there so much shitty fanfic?_ There has to be a good one laying around somewhere…
    
    
      That Coral doe, the mercenary Sutton brought on board
    despite not fully understanding her past, wants to talk to
    you, Skipper. She is alone with you in your quarters.  You
    immediately notice her form-fitting suit. She claims she
    wants to get to know the enemy a little bit before she
    pulls any triggers or does anything "right stupid," as she
    says. But you're not quite sure about *her* allegiances,
    either, so you present a counter-offer: you want to get to
    know your "friend" better, first, before sharing precious
    intel about The Shadow. You want to know her *very* well,
    to make absolute certain.  Mercenaries are a mysterious
    bunch, after all.
      She deliberately places a hoof on her hip, and raises an
    eyebrow and bites her lip. Her right ear twitches
    slightly. You loop the action in your head, over and over
    again, marvelling at how slow, thick and fluid her
    movement is.  Your heart flutters at the distinct
    possibility she received your, *ahem*, communication loud
    and clear. You know not to misinterpret the message being
    relayed from her hips.  You instinctively say "Roger" out
    loud in acknowledgement, which causes Coral to smirk
    seductively and tilt her head just a little. The two of
    you may as well be communicating telepathically. It
    stimulates a region of the brain which fries your neural
    implant -- a complete system failure, like when your spine
    melts as a doe bites you passionately on the neck.  The
    thought enters your head: with her demonstrated cyber
    skills, she very well may be able to hack the implant and
    command you to do whatever she pleases. And you will
    oblige. She will share whatever she wants, and you'll
    share what you know, but she will always leave you wanting
    just a little bit more.  This is how the two of you will
    build up trust.  Looks like your counter-offer might
    actually work. Nice going, Skipper.
      Your eyes are still interlocking with hers. The
    expression on her face suggests a complex, nuanced dynamic
    of domination... or maybe she's just fucking with you. You
    like that you can't tell the difference. After all, this
    is the only way you are going to get to *know* anything
    about her. You dare not look down for too long at the
    unzipped portion of her suit. You want to keep the
    borderline impropriety of the situation -- the constant,
    looming threat of doing something that could get you fired
    -- stoked and healthy for as long as you two can manage.
    Ratcheting up the tension, continually tightening the
    bonds between you two, until it snaps violently like a
    guitar string and you have no choice but to give in to
    your carnal, base and -- admit it, Skipper -- your *true*
    desires.
      The question is: who will snap first?
      This fuckin' *situation*, Skipper. You could get in
    serious trouble if you fuck this up. Trapped alone in
    space with your crew, and *this* piece of tail with
    uncertain allegiances? You know what to do. It's a game of
    wits, but you're clever, Skipper. Your mission: make
    absolute certain she's on your side. We need to get her
    real story. We need that intelligence, and stat.
      She's alone in your quarters right now. Make a move
    already, damnit.

Bisky trembled, eager to read on. It was like making the acquaintance of the devil on her own shoulder for the very first time. Immersed in the story, no, completely submerged in it, Bisky felt as though she was directly bestowed with the gift of seduction: the utterly devastating combination of charm and persuasion which, somehow, she knew she lacked in real life. But in this world, she was omnipotent. She was cunning, commanding, and unrelentingly sexy. The story wasn’t merely smut. It transformed into a _guidebook,_ an instruction manual for how to live in a world where one can obtain whatever they wished, even the doe of their dreams. A world devoid of fear of the consequences.

She didn’t need the story anymore. That was someone else’s imagination. Bisky had her own imagination. It was as good as any, surely. Except it was better, because it was _hers._

She closed her eyes and lay on her back.

_Make a move already, damnit._

Bisky swan-dived from her couch into an ocean of sweat, saliva, blood and lubricant. She did not have a boat, but that was of no matter. The mixture was thick and smelled of woman — a warm, familiar and soothing ooze, nearly embryonic. She broke the surface and gasped loudly for air, arching her head back dramatically, flinging infinitely many droplets of the liquid off her fur. The light of three full moons illuminated her backstripe and refracted off of the salivary mist in a dizzying array of impossible demirainbows, cyan, yellow, and magenta. After catching her breath, she plunged back into the elixir and observed with her eyes the feeling of ecstasy clinging to her naked body, like outstretched chewing gum which refuses to break. She performed a somersault in place, and the bubbles trailing underneath her crept up and tickled her nose and breasts, which made her laugh with the combined simplicity of young kithood and the sophistication of kink. When the effervescence finally stopped tickling, she opened her eyes and saw Coral, also naked, her face only inches away from Bisky’s. Coral raised an eyebrow. Bisky bit her lip. Coral suddenly took Bisky by the paw and swam hurriedly to the surface, where they embraced with an unfathomable ferocity. The doe kissed deep as their ocean, her tongue discovering unexplored regions in the skunk’s throat and thickly painted over them with a coat of dioxylycin and cervical mucus. Bisky wriggled in the sensory stream, contorting her body and her mind to maximize contact with the doe’s offerings. The wriggling dissolved into writhing, which transitioned into convulsing with a force so extreme that it depleted all of her.

Bisky was spent.

She sank.

**Author's Note:**

> This episode took FOREVER to write. Like, all day long. Not because writing about sex makes me uncomfortable... but because I had to (1) adjust in order to write about sex at all (unlike the rest of the series thus far), and also (2) write about it using several different voices, all the while (3) conducting a big experiment. What experiment? We're reading about Bisky reading about sex... I'm not sure if I've seen this sort of "meta-yiff" going on before. I was very curious and willing to see the experiment through, but *sheesh* it nearly broke my brain trying. The only easy part was the "awful" second fanfic. I wrote that in less than five minutes, and then spent some extra time to make it "worse." Overall, a very difficult episode to write. -dressupgeekout


End file.
